23
CHRIS
He woke up disoriented on a bed that smelled of sweat. The room was small, bare, and windowless. His stomach felt hollow, his skull filled with nails. A rotten taste nestled in his mouth. When he tried to move, his bound hands and legs stopped him.
Then the memories hit.
Jay.
He pushed himself up, grimacing at the aches across his body. The only source of light came from a dusty night lamp next to the bed. The zip tie had dug deep into his wrists, leaving angry marks. Could he have dreamed yesterday’s events with Jay? Trevor had been keeping him drunk ever since they kidnapped him, so maybe his scrambled brain wasn’t thinking clearly.
But no. It had been too vivid, too horrifying to just be a hallucination.
“Trevor!” His voice echoed painfully in his head.
The door creaked open, and Trevor walked in. “Morning, sunshine! How’d you sleep?”
“Where’s Jay?”
Trevor frowned. “Who?”
“Jay!”
“My ears must be acting weird. It sounded like you raised your voice at me.”
Chris inhaled and leaned back with his bare back against the headboard. “Sorry. Can you just tell me where he is?”
Trevor shrugged. “Don’t know what you’re talking about. How’s the head? You’ve been drinking like a sailor.” He winked. “Naughty boy.”
Panic ignited in Chris’s chest. Had Trevor killed Jay during the night?
Or maybe I am imagining things?
He shifted on the bed, feeling the raw state of his asshole, although that could have been Trevor’s doing.
“You need to pee?” Trevor asked.
“Yes.”
“You must also be hungry. I’ve been such a shitty host. I’ll bring a knife to untie you.”
Chris waited anxiously, knowing this was likely a trick yet hoping it wasn’t. His stomach grumbled, his throat dry and irritated. Trevor returned with a knife and leaned down to cut off the zip ties.
Chris shook his hands, forcing blood to flow through his numb and aching muscles.
“You need a shower and to brush your teeth, then we’ll get some food into your stomach.”
All of those sounded heavenly. He got up carefully and followed Trevor out of the room, each step feeling sluggish like a baby learning to walk. In the bathroom, he didn’t dare to watch himself in the mirror above the sink. He brushed his teeth with an old toothbrush, then stepped into the small cubicle to take a hot shower. The water pressure came out wonky, but it was a miracle this house even had running water. Chris carefully slid a finger into his hole to wash from inside, hissing at the soreness of the area.
He wished to stay under the current for another hour, but he needed to learn about Jay’s condition, then figure out a way to get them free. It felt borderline hopeless considering how well Trevor got a handle on things, but everyone could make mistakes, even Trevor.
Chris stopped the water and stepped out, drying himself with a grubby towel.
Trevor gave him some of his clothes, which were too big. Once he put them on, Trevor sniffed Chris’s neck. “You smell nice. Come on, I grabbed some waffles from a diner.”
He hobbled after Trevor into the living room, his eyes stalling at the floor. He vaguely remembered being fucked down there by Jay. Even drowning in alcohol, the pain had been horrible.
“Where’s Andy?”
“Around.”
This house wasn’t big enough to just be around, which meant that Andy was likely in the basement. Jay had to be down there as well, assuming he was still alive. Chris stopped himself from going down to check. He was finally sober, and he needed to stay that way for as long as possible, which meant not pissing off Trevor.
They sat on the couch, the waffles stacked on a plate next to a glass of orange juice. He wanted to ask if there was something extra in the juice, but he would have drunk regardless.
“Dig in.”
Chris drank the entire glass, then moved to devour the waffles. They had no right to taste so good being as dry as they were. His stomach rumbled loudly, both happy for the food yet angry because it was shit.
“Feeling better?” Trevor asked once Chris finished.
“Yes. Why are you doing this?”
“What, letting you eat? Jesus, can’t I just be nice to my little brother?”
Chris stared at him blankly until Trevor chuckled. “Yeah, you know me too well. I need you to record a video on your phone.”
“What?”
He slid closer and put his palm on Chris’s cheek, his thumb stroking gently. “You and I will go outside to breathe some fresh air, then you’ll record a short video for me.”
Chris fought the urge to slap Trevor’s hand away. “What do you want me to say on that video?”
“Oh, you know. Words.”
“Trevor.”
“Just talk about how you’ve been feeling depressed lately, and that you need to disappear. Regular things people say before they kill themselves. Cool?”
Chris slapped Trevor’s hand away, his pulse rising. “You’re mental. There isn’t enough alcohol in the world to make me say those things. You want to kill me? Go ahead, but you’re not getting a single dollar out of that will. I have enough people who know what’s going on, and they’ll fight you until you die a homeless man.”
Trevor pursed his lips and cocked his head. “Sounds like I’m in a bit of a pickle if that’s your attitude.”
“Listen, it’s been two days since you kidnapped me, and I don’t think the police are looking yet. Let me and Jay go so I can solve the issue with the will. In the meantime, I’ll get a second mortgage on the house. Hell, I’ll sell the place.” He took a breath because his rusty throat began to hurt, but he’d meant every single word. To get back to his family, and to save Jay, he would convince Melissa to sell the house.
Trevor got to his feet. “Come on.”
“Where are—?”
He grabbed Chris’s arm and pulled him up. His head spun, a reminder that he was still severely hungover. Trevor dragged him toward the basement door and prompted him to walk down the creaking stairs.
When he reached the bottom, Andy beamed at him from a chair. “Hi, Daniel! You’re finally awake.”
Chris leaned against the wall, fearing he might throw up. Jay tilted his head at him from the examination chair, dark bags under his eyes. Layers of duct tape covered his mouth, wrapped around his head. He made a small and pitiful sound that stabbed at Chris’s heart.
“Sick bastards.”
Trevor walked down the stairs. “Maybe next time, don’t get your friends involved in your shit.”
He never meant for this to happen. Yes, it had been selfish of him to get Jay involved in the first place, but he had been desperate, and he never expected Jay to offer such generous help.
Chris forced his legs to carry him forward, noticing the small and angry cuts across Jay’s naked body, some still seeping blood. Needles poked from his flesh, his arms and chest adorned with them. Three were stuck deep inside his right nipple, the flesh red and swollen.
“He doesn’t make much noise,” Andy said in appreciation.
“Then why the hell did you gag him?”
“He called me names!”
Chris knew he should control himself, but fury overtook his body, pushing logic out of the way. He jumped on Andy and shoved him down from the chair, sending him crashing to the floor with a cry of pain. Before Chris could kick his head, Trevor pulled him back, his arms holding him tight.
“Calm down,” he hissed. “You think that hitting Andy is a smart idea?”
When Chris began to process what he’d done, fear replaced his rage. He should have known better.
Andy pulled himself up and adjusted his glasses. “That hurt, Daniel! You’re mean.”
“I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry.”
“Sorry, huh?” Trevor held Chris tighter, breathing down his neck. “Andy, I think you’ve been taking it too easy on our friend here.”
“Easy?” Andy squinted at Jay. “I guess I can try harder.”
“No!”
“Calm down, Danny. I told you what I want—a short video, that’s all.”
Chris watched in cold dread as Andy brought more needles and a knife. He sat between Jay’s legs, which were tied firmly to the leg rests. Jay was too out of it to even stir.
“Trevor, please. No one will believe that video.”
“Let me worry about that.”
He wished to stand his ground, but this was a losing game, and Jay didn’t deserve any of this.
“Okay, I’ll give you what you want, but tell him to stop.”
“Of course you'll give me what I want—you always do. But Jay’s going to pay for your little tantrum while you and I step outside.”
“Trevor—”
“Shh. I bet a part of you loves this—how people do stupid things for you. Like you made my father obsessed with his new prodigy.” He moved his mouth closer to Chris's ear. “And just like you made the manager of the group home crazy for your ass. Poor guy didn't stand a chance. David, right? That was his name.”
Chris's chest hurt from holding his breath. He forced his lungs to suck in air. “Did you always know about that?”
“Of course. We needed someone… special, and David was more than happy to get rid of his dirty little secret. Robert expected to pay a lot more, but we got you for a bargain.”
Chris couldn't deal with this now. The past was the past, and his future was at stake.
“Now, let’s go record your little video and let Andy work in peace.”
*
“Isn’t this a lovely day? It’s warmer than it has been in days, and that damn fog’s finally over. Oh, mind your step—that’s Dima you’re walking over.”
Chris jumped aside and almost lost his footing, using a nearby tree for balance. The grave was hard to spot, even knowing it was there. A long line of ants made their way down through the dirt. Despite Chris’s hatred toward Dima, something about the man ending his life in an unmarked grave sparked an unexpected sense of wrongness.
He tore his eyes away. “I always knew you were a monster, but turning into a serial killer is on a different level.”
“You know, I wish it was harder. I really do.” He met Chris’s eyes, looking surprisingly sincere. “Should I pretend to be someone I’m not? Would that make me normal? I doubt it.”
That unexpected honesty scared Chris more than anything. Trevor embracing the darkest parts of his soul made him even more dangerous.
They walked deeper into the woods, the treetops blocking most of the sky. Every minute spent out here granted Andy more time for his sick games.
“Here.” Trevor pointed with his gun—Chris’s gun—at a thick log.
Chris sat. The sounds of crows came from all directions, yet he couldn’t spot a single one.
Trevor pulled out Chris’s phone. “You won’t get a signal here, so don’t try anything foolish. Just record your video and make it worthy of an Oscar. I want to be moved to tears.”
Chris took his phone. His screen’s background was a photo of Melissa and the twins. He had taken it a few months ago when they went on a family trip to Vermont. The twins had been surprisingly calm during the drive.
He told himself to stay composed, but his eyes still stung, his gut churning.
“Do you like making your mechanic boyfriend suffer? Get to it.”
Chris opened the camera. Trevor had instructed him what to say, and although he remembered the words, they now felt impossible to say out loud.
“You know, I think Andy's working on Jay's balls by now,” Trevor said and leaned against a tree. “He’s probably squeezing them hard enough to pop.”
Chris started the recording. His face stared back at him, looking sick with his ghostly skin and bloodshot eyes. He would freak Melissa out without even needing to speak.
He drew in a breath and stuttered his way through the text until Trevor told him to start over. Chris had failed twice more before finally detaching himself enough from the words coming out of his mouth.
“Hi, Melissa. Sorry for not calling, but I’m still trying to figure things out. The last few months… they’ve been difficult. I tried to be strong and keep it together, but I failed. I hoped that being on my own would help, and that… that I could get back to you and the twins, but I don’t think that’s going to happen.” His voice broke, but he couldn’t stomach starting this hell all over again. “Please give me the space I need to figure things out, and don't try to find me. Whatever happens, I love you.”
He stopped the recording and pinched the bridge of his nose, not willing to break down in front of Trevor. Every part of his body trembled, a sense of failure that hurt more than any physical pain.
“Well, you won’t win an Oscar, but maybe a Daytime Emmy.” Trevor took the phone back and slid it into his pocket. “You want to stay out here a bit?”
“No.” Chris rose to his feet, lightheaded from the sudden movement.
“Oh, come on, it’s so nice and romantic.” Trevor pressed the barrel of the gun below Chris’s chin. “Give me a wet one.”
A sudden wave of fear washed over him. Now that Trevor had gotten that recording, what stopped him from moving ahead with his plan? A single bullet, out here in the woods, was the perfect setup for a suicide.
It can’t end now.
Chris leaned forward and kissed Trevor hard, the barrel still pressing against his skin. He sucked on Trevor’s tongue and moaned with fake pleasure—an old and familiar routine.
Trevor broke the kiss and moved the gun away. “Someone woke up in the mood.” He wrapped his arm around Chris’s shoulders and steered him forward. “Let’s go check what’s left of our mechanic friend.”
*
He both wished to reach the basement and dreaded what he’d find. It couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes since they left the house to record the video, but Andy didn’t need much time to cause havoc.
“Hold on, what’s the rush?” Trevor chuckled as they entered the house.
Chris ignored him and opened the basement door, immediately hearing moans of pain that made his skin crawl. He hurried down the stairs, the air turning denser with each new step.
“How’s it going?” Trevor asked from behind.
“Super!” Andy chirped and wiped his palms on his sweatpants.
Chris stepped closer, his breath caught in his throat. Jay’s eyes were shut, his head slumped to the side with the duct tape still blocking his mouth. More needles poked out of his skin, with fresh cuts bleeding across his torso, and nasty bite marks here and there.
“Jay? Are you okay?” A silly question, but Chris had to know.
Slowly, Jay cracked open his glossy eyes and blinked.
“Did you give him anything to drink?” Chris asked.
Andy frowned. “Was I supposed to?”
“He needs water and bandages,” Chris said, trying to keep his voice stern yet respectful.
“Andy, go grab a bottle of water. No need for bandages—he’s barely bleeding.”
“Okay. Are there any waffles left?”
“Danny ate them all.”
Andy sighed and walked up the stairs, chanting, “Fat Daniel.”
Trevor chuckled. “Talk about a lack of self-awareness.”
“Can I take the duct tape off?”
“Yeah, unless you can get him to drink from his asshole.”
Chris gingerly came to stand next to Jay. The stench of sweat hit him hard, with the metallic scent of blood also lingering in the air.
“I preferred to keep this between us, but you chose to bring others into our business,” Trevor said as Chris slowly unwrapped the duct tape, unintentionally pulling out a few of Jay’s long hairs. “Should I expect more unwanted company?”
Chris sensed the worry in Trevor’s voice and his subtle threat. “No one else will come.” Even Jay hadn’t known where Chris was being kept, so how could anyone else? He wondered if Jay had the chance to share that Chris had been abducted with Ethan and Anthony.
He didn’t dare to hope.
When Chris finally got rid of the duct tape, Jay let out a long breath of relief, his lips parched and cracked.
Andy walked down the stairs. “I got the water.”
Trevor took the bottle and passed it to Chris, who held it close to Jay’s lips. “You need to drink.”
The lips parted slightly, and Chris carefully poured water inside, stopping every few seconds to give Jay a chance to swallow.
Once the bottle emptied, Jay cracked open his eyes. “Thanks.”
“I’m taking the needles out.”
Trevor snorted. “Oh really?”
“Yes.” Without waiting for permission, Chris pulled the first needle out of Jay’s right pec, causing him to grimace. For the next few minutes, he carefully pulled out the remaining needles, some so deep they came out bloody. He had no doubt that more darkness lay ahead, but for now, he had to at least ease Jay’s suffering.
Once he got everything out, he stroked Jay’s head, feeling deeply guilty, and even more—poisonous.
Trevor came to stand behind Chris and pulled off his shirt. “Jay, look here.”
Jay opened his eyes, a bit more focused than before.
“Doesn’t Danny have the most amazing skin?”
Jay gave a slight nod.
“Come on, you can do better than that.”
He wet his lips. “I don’t know what the hell you want to hear.”
“The truth.”
“Yeah?” Jay cleared his throat. “The truth is that you and your brother are psychopaths.”
“Ooh, harsh. You heard that, Andy? We’re psychopaths for wanting our money back.”
“Daniel’s friend is rude!”
“Damn right he is. But I’m going to forgive him because he was such a good sport last night.” He held Jay’s chin. “I’ll give you something to make you sleep for a while.”
“Don’t hurt him,” Jay said, the warning in his voice falling flat, yet it still warmed Chris’s heart.
Trevor snickered. “Hurt him? I’d never! Come on, Danny. We have a video to send.”